


Comfort food

by Zombieheroine



Series: Names and faces [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Domestic Fluff, Family Dinners, First Meetings, Fluff, Identity Reveal, M/M, Overwatch Family, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombieheroine/pseuds/Zombieheroine
Summary: The latest Blackwatch mission took a toll on Jesse, and like a caring commanding officer Reyes invites him to his home for a proper dinner.Jesse is especially intrigued since he hasn’t ever met Reyes’ husband before.





	Comfort food

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea and it swell into a theme that swell into a fic I’m writing for this round of Reaper76 BigBang, and this little thing doesn’t fit in it anymore. 
> 
> So here it is, fluff and cuteness. This will likely be a part of a series later, or somehow connected to the fic I will publish with the Big Bang. 
> 
> P.S. Gabriel Reyes is a goth, pass it on.

Life had gotten a bit better for Jesse after he had joined Overwatch. Not immediately, no, first there had been an excruciating boot camp that included getting up six in the morning and lots of people yelling at him, rigorous physical training and learning a protocol for every little thing. But after a while Jesse had started to get the hang of the ropes and learned to play, getting up early became a habit, and as he learned to put things in order and got used to the work, the routine became nearly comfortable. 

Training was hard, but within the first year Jesse found that he liked it there with Overwatch. The bases or the training grounds or the housing weren't any fancier than any other army facilities but that was enough. There were beds and five meals a day, and Jesse grew to appreciate how with even the discipline and the rigid protocol he wasn't at any immediate risk, and slowly his body and brain learned that too. 

Even the demanding Commander Reyes who had recruited him became a figure of stability and even solace, his way of running a tight ship and running it smooth and unrelenting put Jesse in a place that was good.

All that made a foundation so firm and good that when Jesse was green-lit for field duty and enlisted with Blackwatch he was for the most part unaffected. He stood firmly with both his training and the unit around him, rarely needing it as anything to fall back on but safe and secure in the knowledge that they were there. 

He was mostly fine. Mostly. 

When Jesse was just barely twenty there was a mission that did him in like no other had before. It wasn't the last one to do so but it was the first, and thus it hit him like only new things do.

Ironically it was a rescue mission. A case carefully built over eight months to bring back three kidnapped journalists that had gone missing after falling behind enemy lines when an omnic extremist group did a raid near the border of Lithuania in Russia. Tracking them had been hard, and over eight months they had occasionally resurfaced around Europe, every time a bit more to the south, and evidently the kidnapper group had used them to produce propaganda and send demand letters to various news offices. 

A week ago they had resurfaced in northern France in the mountains, and a rescue mission had been quickly put together before the trail would go cold again. With such a volatile group that technically wasn't recognized as a thing that existed in the picture a Blackwatch unit was sent on the way. 

They took off early in the morning and returned to Zürich's base late in the evening. On the paper the mission was a success. All three kidnapping victims were recovered in an acceptable condition. The enemy was neutralized. But the unit had two agents less than they had had when they had taken off. 

Jesse hadn't ever been on a mission with casualties on their side before. He didn't know what he was feeling or what he was supposed to feel, and when they were sitting in the plane on their way back to the headquarters he tried to look around at the other agents to see how they were reacting. Everyone was quiet, but that was nothing unusual. Several agents were napping on their places, some had a phone or a tablet and headphones on. Someone was reading. Commander Reyes was typing a mission report with a laptop in his lap. 

Nothing indicated that they were missing two agents. Two professional, fully trained and perfectly capable agents had fallen, dead, gone forever, and yet nothing seemed out of place.

Jesse started feeling like the one out of place as no one else did or said anything. He pulled his collar up and sunk down on his seat and tried to comprehend the loss they had suffered, tried to locate the pain inside himself yet found nothing. His thoughts were swimming, too big and deep into his head, and he felt himself sinking into them. His gaze grew unfocused and he joined the silence.

After that it was a difficult week for Jesse. Work was just as usual and the life went on. Jesse kept waiting for the reality to catch up with him and hit him with the pain of loss he had heard so much about, but it seemed that it was never coming. He just floated through his shifts, watched lockers being emptied and name shields taken off, and he felt nothing except out of place. 

After a week Commander Reyes stopped by his locker when Jesse had just gotten out of the gym. 

“Hey, kid. What's going on with you?” 

Jesse threw him a look. “Nothing, sir.” 

But it seemed that Reyes had come to specifically search for him, because instead of leaving him alone he leaned on the locker and crossed his arms. “Don't lie to your commanding officer,” he said.  
Jesse threw him an irritated look and sat down on the bench. He took the towel from his shoulders and wiped sweat off his face, pointedly staying silent although he knew it wouldn't shake Reyes off.

The silence went on, and after a minute Reyes sighed. “This is about Torres and Raymond, isn't it?” he said.

Just hearing their names stung, and Jesse stared at the tile floor, silent. 

Reyes sighed again. “Sometimes we lose people, kid. It's that kind of a world and that kind of a job.” 

“And that's it?” Jesse snapped. Somehow hearing that kind of casual dismissal sparked anger in him, something familiar he hadn't quite managed to work himself out of yet.

Reyes met his gaze steadily. “I wrote a report. Their families have been notified and they are working things out. They will be buried two weeks from now. We will attend, and their pictures will go on the wall.” 

Jesse made a face, a bitter taste in his mouth. “You wrote a report... Why do you even write those since the one Mister Strike-Commander sir gets is mostly just black blocks anyway?”

“Watch the tone about commanding officers,” Reyes reminded him. “I wrote the report so that their families can be notified. That is how things go. We have to know everything first, especially when it's our division. And Strike-Commander Morrison knows all that he's supposed to know, and it's my job to know what he can't. Reports are protocol, protocol is part of the system, system keeps us from chaos.” 

“It didn't save Torres or Raymond,” Jesse muttered, his voice part crushed, part spiteful. He hoped Reyes thought he blamed him. 

“No, it didn't. Death tends to ignore things like systems built by mortal hands,” Reyes admitted. His voice was suddenly softer. “Death ignores everything. It ignores our protocol, it ignores your morals, your faith, your family. It doesn't care if you're young or old, rich or poor, when death comes it comes. And still the rest of us has to keep living.” 

Jesse bit his lips and tried to glare at Reyes. In that moment he hated him, his calm manner, how used to this he was, his soft voice and his certain eyes. Jesse bit on his lip harder and squeezed his eyes shut so he didn't have to look at him anymore, and tears squeezed out between his shut eyelids, rolling down his cheeks. 

“It's alright to feel, kid,” Reyes said. “We all grieve differently. It's something we just got to do.”

Jesse wiped his eyes and said nothing. He felt like a teenager again, sulking at his officer without knowing what else to do. 

Reyes watched him for a moment, then straightened up again. “How about this,” he said, “you go and take a shower now, take as long as you need, then put on some fresh clothes and meet me down in the lobby. Jackie is cooking dinner. You could join us, get something proper to eat.” 

Jesse perked up. He hadn't ever been invited to Reyes' home, let alone to meet his husband. He had just heard of the Commander's spouse in his off-hand remarks and occasional stories, like “keep up so we can wrap up on schedule, my husband is cooking dinner,” or “it's a morning as beautiful as my husband's smile, thus a perfect morning for a ten-mile run. Get moving!” 

Every time Reyes mentioned his husband it was like a ray of sunshine hit his face as he gazed into the distance, and no one needed to see it to know that he was a man who carried his wedding picture in his wallet everywhere. Hell, it wouldn't surprise Jesse if he had a heart-locket hidden under his hoodie with Jackie's picture in it.

And yet Jesse had never seen or met this Jackie who had married Commander Reyes. Jesse knew Reyes at work and as an adult who cared enough to chew him out, and he was always stern with everything planned out, a monster between a teacher and a drill-sergeant. But when Jackie came up it showed a glimpse of a different man hiding behind the officer Reyes was at work, a man Reyes was when he went home to his spouse. Jesse couldn't imagine Reyes in a cozy home cooking with his husband, sewing, holding someone's hand while reading, or doing any of those things he sometimes casually mentioned. 

Jesse was intrigued. 

As promised Reyes was waiting for Jesse in the lobby of the main building when he was finally ready and made his way there. Having showered, combed his hair and changed into a clean shirt and a less worn pair of jeans Jesse felt presentable, like he had made an effort even if he was still wearing his ratty bandana around his neck and a stetson on his head. 

Reyes was sitting on one of the sofas there, he too had changed into casual clothes, black trousers and a worn leather-jacket, and got up when Jesse approached. He glanced him up and done, apparently deemed him acceptable and gestured him with him. “Just two rules in our house, kiddo: one, mind your manners, and two, no work talk at home. Got it?” 

Jesse was nearly giddy as they walked across the large campus of the headquarters. It felt like some sort of a mystery was about to unravel before him, or like he had just been granted some special privileges. And maybe he felt closer to Reyes too, worthy of his time and trust. 

The walk across the campus was surprisingly long. Behind the large office buildings, training grounds, and the research and science complex was a park with maple trees, benches, tall lilac bushes and tulips and a tiny pond with a water fountain in it. When they walked through the park and the gateway of maples and rose arches it was like stepping into another world: beyond they were greeted by freshly paved driveways and rows of houses with tiny backyards, children playing on the street and ordinary-looking people walking their dogs or tending to their gardens. 

They walked down the sidewalk by a row of identical duplexes, all narrow with small yards and plainly painted either brown and beige with tile-roofs. Finally Reyes slowed down his steps, then stopped by a black iron gate and opened it to step onto a pathway, and Jesse followed him to the porch and then waited on the steps for him to open the door. 

They stepped into a small hall where Reyes told Jesse to leave his shoes while he untied his own boots, and then they stepped inside. Jesse was turning his head in every way eager to take everything in as fast as he could, and Reyes had to remind him to take off his jacket. There was really nothing to see there yet, only the hallway, darks stairs leading to the second floor, and opposite from the coat rack a small antique table so dark it was almost black with a bowl with keys on it. 

Reyes himself tossed his leather jacket on the rack without bothering to hang it, then wandered a bit further inside to glance into the two rooms the hallway opened to on both sides, then peered up the hardwood stairs and called to the house: “Honey, I'm home!” 

A moment later a man appeared at the top of the stairs. He was as tall and broad as Reyes, but blond and dressed in worn-out jeans and a red plaid shirt, and there was a bright smile on his face as he looked down to Reyes: “Welcome home, darling. Dinner is almost ready.” 

At first Jesse thought that Jackie was awfully familiar looking and he wrecked his brain trying to place the impression as the man came down the stairs and Reyes in turn walked towards them to meet him. One, two, three steps, and Jesse thought that the man might just be unremarkable-looking enough to look like every second person on tv. Four, five, six steps, and Jesse was certain that he had seen the man somewhere before but couldn't make the connection. Seven, eight, nine steps, and there was a dawning feeling that he knew this man and he was just a thought away from realizing the painfully obvious, it just took adding some things in his mind and admitting to himself that the context was right there. 

And finally after the thirteenth step Jesse just had to believe his eyes and brain and realize that the man stepping from the bottom step into Reyes' waiting embrace and kissing him on the lips was Strike-Commander Morrison. 

Reyes wrapped his arms around Morrison's middle and picked him up from the stairs, making the man laugh into the kiss while he was carried from the stairs.

Jesse could count with one hand the times he had seen Commander Morrison smile, and never had he heard him laugh. Both men were a strange sight out of uniform and in the hallway of their house, and lucky for Jesse they were so entangled in their greeting that he could openly stare. 

Reyes held Morrison off the floor apparently just because he could, and Morrison laughed with his arms around his neck before leaning in to plant yet another kiss on his lips.

“Hey, you,” Morrison said. 

Reyes huffed with gentle amusement. “Hello yourself,” he replied with a voice that was just flirty enough to make Jesse drop his gaze to his feet and blush. 

Jesse didn't know what to do or how to be, he just peered at the happy couple through his bangs. 

Finally Reyes let Morrison down and they both turned back to Jesse, who snapped in attention and on a reflex he didn't know he had took his hat off. Reyes gave him an amused look and raised an eyebrow while at the same time he slipped an arm around Morrison's back, and Morrison let his rest on Reyes' shoulder, the two of them settling into an easy stance hip to hip.

“Hello, Jesse,” Morrison greeted him. “Welcome to our place.”

“Um... Sure, thanks,” Jesse muttered, blinking at the Strike-Commander.

“Dinner will be ready once the potatoes are done, it shouldn't be long now,” Morrison said and nodded to his left through a doorway to their probably-kitchen. 

“Okay,” Jesse heard himself reply. 

There was a constant casual smile on Morrison's face that he definitely didn't have when on duty, and it only grew wider as he regarded Jesse’s awkward stance. Jesse felt painfully under prepared for this dinner now that he knew he was about to dine with two of his officers instead of just the one he knew. 

Perhaps Morrison sensed some of that and took pity on him, because he didn't keep them there in the hallway any longer but said: “Come now, there's no reason to just stand here and wonder. Come to the kitchen and sit down.” 

He and Reyes finally let go of each other and stepped into the other room through an open arched doorway, and Jesse followed them. He looked around him, and opposite of the kitchen was a living-room or something that looked a lot like it at the fast glimpse Jesse managed to get. He saw a blocky sofa with blankets and pillows on it, a low round coffee table and a tv, and then he had to turn forward again when he stepped into the kitchen. 

The kitchen had both the cooking space and a dining table for four crammed in there. It wasn't big or small, but definitely crowded. The drawers and cupboards were pale wood and the counter tops dark stone, there wasn't much space and most of it was used for a toaster, a coffee-maker, a cutting board and a knife block, and a ceramic bowl with onions and garlic in it. 

The dining table looked old, it was dark wood and a fairly modest one, but the chairs were straight-backed and decorated, like wood made into lace. Looking around the apartment Jesse supposed that things like the dining table and the chairs and the key table in the hall were some of the few things the men living in this house had actually chosen for themselves. 

Jesse was told to take a seat, so he pulled out one of those fancy chairs and sat down.

There was a large pot on the stove with steam pouring out under its lid, and Morrison tended to it. He took a fork and lifted the lid to try the potatoes. Dissatisfied, he put the lid back on. 

“Would you like something to drink while you wait?” Morrison asked. 

Jesse jumped a bit when he was spoken to, and replied: “Um... Yeah, thanks. Water is fine.” 

Morrison went to the fridge and took out a glass jug with water and lemon slices in it, then reached for one of the cupboards to get a glass. “Gabe, could you set the table?” he said to Reyes in passing.

“Sure,” Reyes said, already taking out plates. They moved around each other with comfortable ease, casually brushing the other's back when moving by and simply existing there in their shared kitchen. 

It was a strange sight, and Jesse had the time to take it in. It might have been the lack of the uniforms or that they were in their home, but both men seemed different from what Jesse was used to. Even Reyes whom he was pretty familiar with by now seemed like a different person, not only out of his uniform and work clothes but even without his beanie and instead in black trousers and a casual black shirt with a golden rosary around his neck, he appeared cheerful and relaxed and kept gazing at Morrison with open mirth and affection Jesse had never seen.

And that wasn't even mentioning Morrison yet. Jesse was wrecking his brain and trying to figure out if he was supposed to know that Reyes' Jackie was Strike-Commander Morrison and he had just been deep in denial about it, or if this was a very elaborate, bizarre prank. 

But as he looked at the two he had to admit that it couldn't be a prank either. Two people just didn't fake something like this, and unless these two weren't clone impostors Jesse was better start making sense of this. 

Morrison looked strange out of his flashy Strike-Commander's uniform. With the long blue coat and body-armour on and all that topped with the Strike-Commander's humorless attitude Morrison was one intimidating hard-ass to work with, and to believe that this man had been hiding behind that image all this time was quite a stretch. 

Jesse drank his lemony water and watched Reyes setting the table for the three of them before he went back to fawn over his husband who was now peering in the oven. In the oven there was a black ceramic pot, and Morrison deemed whatever it had ready and took it out, kicking the oven closed and set the pot to side. 

Even without his boots and armour Morrison was still a large man, but strangely bland. He was just another blond guy with a crewcut and a stark five-o'clock shadow, wearing clothes like he was about to go chop some fire wood after dinner. This languid countryside aesthetic didn't seem like anything you'd find under layers of sharp military bravado. 

Reyes went to the fridge. “Baby, do we have salad?” 

Morrison glanced at him quickly. “Yeah, we do, on the bottom shelf. Could you chop some vegetables into it? I didn't get to finish it.”

“Sure,” Reyes answered, bowed down and took a glass bowl covered with plastic wrap out of the fridge. “What's missing?”

“I think we have some cherry tomatoes and green bell peppers in there,” Morrison said. “And there's the lime dressing from yesterday in a bottle.”

“Uh-huh,” Reyes said, set the bowl to the side and went through their fridge, picking out vegetables and tossing them into the sink to be washed. He set the water running, picked a knife from the block and turned to put the salad dressing on the table, then addressed Jesse by pointing the knife at him. “You need to eat more greens, kiddo, so be sure to fill half of your plate with salad.”

Jesse stared first at the kitchen knife and then up to Reyes. “Alright,” he said, as if arguing was even an option. 

Reyes smiled and went back to washing and chopping ingredients to the salad. Morrison stood by his side on the other side of the stove, a wooden spoon in his hand and stirring the black pot. A mouth-watering scent of cooked meat and vegetables floated from the pot, and Reyes leaned over to take a sniff of their dinner. “That smells so good,” he said, making Morrison grin and wrinkle his nose at him, clearly pleased. 

A pot coaster was tossed on the table and the pot was set there. Jesse inhaled the scent of simmered meat and the stew and suddenly realized how hungry he was. He couldn't wait until the potatoes were done so they would get to eat. 

Reyes was halving cherry tomatoes and snacking on them every once in a while, something that must have been a regular occurrence and a general nuisance judging by the way he tried to hide his chewing when Morrison turned. 

“Gabe, don't eat the salad before it's in the bowl!” Morrison lectured him with a snort and slapped him with an oven mitten in the back of his head. 

“There's plenty of salad already!” Reyes defended himself and dodged the second slap of the mitten. “Did you soak the onions, by the way?”

Morrison tossed the oven mitten aside and leaned over to check on the salad. “I did, a bit.”

“You put fava beans in there too,” Reyes pointed out.

Morrison pat him on the lower back. “They are good for you. Protein! We happened to have those, so in the salad they went.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want,” Reyes chuckled at him. His tone made Morrison smile and lean on the kitchen counter, his chin on his hand, like watching Reyes chop some tomatoes and bell peppers was something to be admired. Reyes turned to smile at him every now and then when he put the readied ingredients into the bowl, and every time their eyes met Morrison's smile turned a bit brighter. 

Jesse watched them with his head tilted, still a bit flustered, and he was certain that if Reyes took one of those tomatoes and fed it to Morrison, Jesse would drop dead then and there. 

Thankfully he didn't, and the salad was prepared. 

“All done,” Reyes said and washed the knife under the tap. 

Morrison straightened up and checked the potatoes with the fork. “And so are the potatoes. Just a moment now.” 

Reyes set the salad bowl on the table, and Morrison took the oven mittens and poured the water out of the potato pot. He set the pot aside, went to the fridge and took out butter and milk, went back to the pot and put in a generous chunk of butter. He put in some salt from a mill, then poured in a slosh of milk, put the lid on and went to put the milk and butter in the fridge. 

Reyes put some salad handles into the bowl, stopped to consider for a second and then went in with his fingers to pick out one more cherry tomato.

“I thought you weren't supposed to snack on those,” Jesse commented. 

Reyes stilled and gave him a look, then rolled his eyes and pulled his hand out of the salad bowl. Jesse gave him a grin and settled down a bit more comfortable now. 

Reyes turned back to the counter. “Jackie, you've already turned the kid against me,” he whined theatrically, making Morrison chuckle. “Now I can't snack when I want in my own house. You're ruining my recruits!” Morrison kept laughing at him, and Reyes approach him with swinging steps until he was right at his side. Morrison was mashing potatoes in the pot and tried to muffle his laugh, pointedly turning away from Reyes who was now leaning into his space. The gesture did nothing to deter Reyes who had a lopsided grin on his face and only leaned closer, his arms sneaking around the other man's middle and his nose brushing the shell of Morrison's ear before he softly kissed his jawline. 

Morrison squirmed and let out a bubbly laugh, trying to shake Reyes off with a shrug of his shoulder. “Gabe! Darling, you know that tickles!” 

Reyes just snickered, pulled Morrison closer and teasingly nuzzled his beard into his husband's neck while the other squirmed and laughed.

Jesse drank some more water and looked the other way. 

Finally the mashed potatoes were ready and Morrison managed to squirm out of Reyes' embrace and the range of his kisses. He put a wooden spoon into the pot and set it on the table, and finally the dinner was served. 

Reyes and Morrison sat down next to each other and opposite of Jesse.

“Dig in,” Morrison said, gesturing at the dinner served. 

Reyes pushed the salad bowl towards Jesse with a meaningful look, and obediently Jesse started to pile salad on his plate. He didn't actually mind, he didn't remember when he had last gotten homemade salad to go with his dinner, and this looked fresh and crunchy. 

Finally he got to see the stew, and when he leaned over the black pot he was greeted by the rich smell of slowly cooked meat with onions and carrots, and as he scooped stew onto his plate he could already see how tender and juicy the meat was. 

Morrison was pouring water, first for Reyes, and then for himself. “That's the kind of food you want to learn to cook in this line of work,” he said, nodding towards the stew. “We have no schedule so when we make dinner we have to be prepared to wait. Oven-cooked stews are the perfect dish. This one was in the oven for five hours and it's just better for it.” 

“True,” Reyes echoed. “Cooking is an important life skill, kid. You should learn some basics.” 

“My mom always said that cooking is the best answer to life's worries,” Morrison said, passing over the mashed potatoes. “There's no grief that can't be made at least a bit better with a hot meal made with plenty of butter.” 

Reyes laughed heartily by his side. “Where I come from we order take-out.” 

“It's not just the food, cooking is important in itself,” Morrison said back, nudging Reyes with his elbow but speaking to Jesse. “You get something to do with your hands and keep yourself busy.”

“Or you can just marry well, walk into a fully prepared table and have your spouse fill your plate,” Reyes quipped while Morrison was piling meat onto his plate. The comment gave Morrison a pause and he gave Reyes a dry look while the other just raised a brow and grinned back at him.

“I draw a line at feeding you. We're not twenty anymore,” Morrison said with pursed lips and went back to his own plate.

“But you're forever young and beautiful in my eyes, cariño,” Reyes cooed, fluttering his eyelashes and grinning like a cat. Morrison bit his lip and tried to give him a stern look but managed to look just a bit flustered, and there was a smile tugging on the corners on his mouth. 

Jesse watched them curiously as he poured dressing on his salad. It took a considerable effort of his imagination to put the couple across from him back into uniforms and their commanding styles in his mind. Without their body-armour, uniforms, weapons and the commander attitude they both looked perfectly normal. They seemed younger like this, lighter somehow. 

Jesse picked up his fork and tasted the meat on his plate. It was just as soft as it looked, almost melting in his mouth. The potatoes were smooth and he could taste the butter there. He tried the salad, and the leaves were indeed still crunchy, as were the cucumber, cherry tomatoes, red onions and bell peppers, and the sour beans and the dressing were a treat of their own. For a while Jesse just ate, feeling perfectly content and cozy there. 

“Slow down a bit there, kid,” Reyes said with an amused tone. “There are seconds.” 

“He's right,” Morrison joined in, “no one's taking that plate away from you. Eat as much as you want.” 

Jesse swallowed and drank some water, a bit embarrassed by his hogging. “Sorry,” he said.

“Don't worry about it,” Morrison said. “You must be starving. Go ahead.”

Jesse did, but took it slower from there. 

“Ana is going out on Friday,” Morrison said to Reyes. “She asked us to baby-sit and I already agreed.”

Reyes shrugged while eating. “Of course. Are we gonna take Fareeha out somewhere or is it a home night?” 

“Ana already thinks we're spoiling her, so...” Morrison chuckled, leaving the sentence open-ended on purpose.

Reyes gasped in fake-offense. “We are her honorary godfathers! It's practically our duty to spoil her!”

“That's what I said,” Morrison replied. “But she insisted that we are feeding her too much sugar.”

“Fine, fine,” Reyes scoffed. “We should take her to the shooting range instead then. She's getting really good with her aim.” 

“Perfect,” Morrison said with a smile. 

Jesse listened to their casual conversation and arrangements with interest. Everything they came up with was mundane and trivial, and Reyes kept making little jokes that made Morrison roll his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose even though he couldn't help smiling or laughing at them. At one point Jesse spotted that Reyes’ left hand was constantly under the table, most likely resting on Morrison's knee. 

Jesse kept eating and got seconds with both men encouraging him, and finally Jesse managed to relax properly. The cozy home, the filling dinner and the odd married couple being their boring selves felt like the most mundane, normal place to be at. It felt safe, like a nest built in a sheltered place away from the world. 

And the more Jesse listened to Reyes and Morrison and took in how they were, the more he really felt like he had just met them. Not only Reyes' Jackie, but also Morrison's Gabe.


End file.
